I'm not dead! Just incredibly busy =D Hope you enjoy this...

The Best Years of Your Life

Some people said "your school days were the best years of your life." Carolina didn't know if that was true, but it had to be said, her own were pretty good.

She did well academically. From her first potion lesson it was clear she was talented. She was Slughorn's pet in class. At his dinner parties he would boast of her feats with a caudron, before moving onto the next person.

Her love of potions grew as they progressed into NEWT level. There she found the allure of finely crafted poisons. Poisons that could make a person writhe in pain. Poisons that could be administered slyly. Poisons that would never be detected once consumed.

"Not that we'll be making any of these," Slughorn chortled. "We just need to know about them, to help us learn the theory behind antidotes. We don't want anyone being poisoned now do we?"

Carolina laughed with the rest of the class.

Then brewed some secretly in her dorm.

Just to see if she could.

Just to see what it would be like.

She always through them out afterwards. It wasn't like she was going to use them.

Her best friend Andromeda thought she was mad.

"Waste of a good poison!" she would complain.

Carolina would just smile at her and close the curtains in her face.

Carolina liked Slughorn. He could be boring and repetitive, but he praised her constantly. And that was all she really wanted from people at this stage. Praise.

Although some expressed their praise in odd ways.

Dromeda showed people she liked them by insulting them frequently. Carolina couldn't walk into the common room without hearing "Oi Zabini you ugly Italian bitch! Get over here!"

"Charming Blackie." Carolina would state raising an eyebrow. "And what would Mama Black say if she could hear you?"

Dromeda just laughed.

She was the best friend ever. Even if she was a rich, spoilt brat.

"Wow you're house is tiny," she had exclaimed the first time she visited. And without even seeing Carolina's mildly irritated face she continued in the same breath, "I like it."

It meant alot to Carolina.

She nearly died when she first saw Andromeda's house. It was a palace! Almost as big as Hogwarts, and a million times grander.

"You- Live here?" she had choked out.

"Yeah," Dromeda had replied casually. "It's a pretty awesome house."

Dromeda just didn't do modesty. It was one of the things Carolina liked about her.

"Why should I play down how brilliant I am?" she was fond of saying.

She was also incredibly loyal. To friends and especially family. More than once Carolina saw her beating up some poor unfortunate who had slighted someone in her "circle." Carolina's first boyfriend experienced Dromeda's wrath.

"Thank you," she had whispered across the darkened dorm.

For what?" Dromeda had replied.

"Nothing," Carolina responded, knowing that somewhere in the castle, Wilson Lament was nursing a bleeding nose.

The unofficial war against Madison cemented their friendship even further. Madison couldn't see Andromeda in the corridors without saying something hateful, and Dromeda couldn't see Madison without wanting to hex something.

As Dromeda's best friend, Carolina was often caught in the cross fire.

Carolina wasn't as rash as Andromeda. Dromeda would let loose with the insults and jinxes as soon as look at someone. Carolina preferred to let her opponent exhaust their bank of cheap shots and then, when they were silent, she would let a scathing remark drop from her tongue and cut the feet from under the person foolish enough to go against her.

More than once she had reduced Madison to a fuming, bumbling mess.

And if the verbal offence didn't work, there were many other ways to get revenge, subtler than pointing your wand to someone's throat.

"My ways are more fun," Dromeda would giggle.

"But my ways are more effective," Carolina would state.

"Tch, in your opinion."

And in Carolina's opinion they were.

One day she walked into the potions classroom and nearly banged into Andromeda who had stopped dead.

"That little..." she hissed before trying to usher Carolina out the door.

But Carolina had already seen. Slashed across the blackboard.

ZABINI IS A HORE

She didn't rage or scream (Dromeda was doing enough of that behind her.) She gracefully turned, the picture of placid, and paced to the back of the room. Leaning over Madison's desk and right into her face, she stated calmly, loud enough for the whole class to hear

"You spelt "whore" wrong."

Her love of potions got her her first job.

She was a sales girl at Madame Pimpernelle's Beautifying Potions, located at 275 Diagon Alley. It was just a badly paid summer job, to give her pocket money to spend on Hogsmeade weekends, but it gave her a satisfying sense of independence. And led to her first real job.

Madame Pimpernelle was a stout, fussy witch, who covered her rather plain face with and absurd amount of make-up which suited her, none-the-less. Whenever she was displeased she would scrunch up her nose like a bunny and Merlin help the person that had caused her upturned button nose to scrunch.

It scrunched the day Carolina got her first real job.

"But she must come soon!" Madame Pimpernelle had wailed. "She can't just leave me in the lurch like this!"

"Sorry," the photographer had said. "I have other shoots to go to. If you can't produce your model I'll have to leave."

"Nooooooooo!" Madame Pimpernelle cried clutching his arm. Desperately her eyes searched the room for something to make him stay. They landed on Carolina.

"Miss Zabini will model for us."

Carolina nearly dropped the box of moisturising potions she was carrying.

The photographer studied her.

"Yes. She's quite pretty. She'll do well enough."

"How old is she?"

"Seventeen."

"Perfect. Get her sorted."

"But- I -uh!" Carolina stuttered as Madame Pimpernelle dragged her to a mirror at the front of the shop, beside which stood two girls who had arrived with the photographer..

"Betty, put some colour onto her face. Glinda's left me hanging too often, Carolina's our model for today."

She sat bemused as Betty attacked her face with various brushes. She'd never realised how long one could take to put on make-up, but Betty was on her for a good forty five minutes, while the other girl, Tessa, attacked her hair.

Once finished they looked at Carolina oddly and led her to the photographer. He also looked at her oddly.

She posed beside the new range of lipsticks that were to feature in next weeks article. It was as natural as breathing. She smiled. She pouted. She fluttered her eyelashes.

Madame Pimpernelle looked at her oddly.

"Am I doing something wrong?"

"No dear!" Madame Pimpernelle exclaimed in a shocked voice. "It's just that-, well, you are quite pretty."

Carolina glanced at her self in a nearby mirror.

Certainly the make-up helped emphasise her best features; it made her eyes look even bigger, though not ridiculously so. But asides from that all she saw was her own face staring back at her. Normal as it had been since she was old enough to recognise herself.

"Yes," the photographer agreed emphatically. "Absolutely stunning. Incredibly photogenic."

Something warm stirred in Carolina's chest.

"Much prettier than Glinda," Madame Pimpernelle twittered. "I want you as our new shop model. You must do all our shots from now on."

The warmth became a fiery burn. Her head was spinning. This couldn't be real.

But it was.

Madame Pimpernelle chirped abut her future career as a model. Betty and Tessa gushed over her features and hair. The photographer gave her his number and said he'd be in touch about other jobs. Carolina watched as if it was a dream.

Three days later an owl came for her at breakfast. It gave her a copy of Witch Weekly and a letter informing her that Nine Galleons had been deposited in her account at Gringotts.

Nine Galleons! More than she made in a week serving customers! All for standing and smiling for a few photos! Carolina didn't think her smile could go any wider.

Then she flipped open the magazine.

From page six her own eyes smouldered back at her.

Granted she was in the corner. A tiny advert for Madame Pimpernelle's beside a much larger article. But she was there. In witch weekly. She was a model!

Mama was so proud.

Papa was too. Though he kept staring at her sorrowfully and sighing "my baby girl."

Carolina was too elated to notice. She bounced round the kitchen with Benji as he chanted "Cleena's a model! Cleena's a model!"

An hour later Dromeda burst through the floo with Cissy in tow, bringing hugs and squeals of delight.

An hour after that she received a howler from the slighted Glinda.

"IT'S NOT MY FAULT I FELL ILL!" it screeched. "YOU HAD NO RIGHT TO STEAL MY SHOOT!"

By the time she went back to school she'd done even more shoots, and not just for Madame Pimpernelle. The boys were all over her. And the girls were either madly happy for her, madly jealous or madly both. Madison's glares grew darker.

And at Christmas time, late the night before she left for home, someone pushed that first copy of witch weekly across the desk she was working at and murmured, "You're pretty Zabini."

She glanced up in time to see Blaise Pascal disappear into the boys dormitories. Beside the magazine was a small box, wrapped in fawn paper and tied with a chocolate coloured bow. Eagerly ripping it open she discovered a broad silver chain with a large amber pendant.

In the dimness of the deserted common room, Carolina smiled.

Awww! Pretty jewelry =D Come on that deserves a review!